


Out With the Old

by JustARandomIdiot



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, actually it's not implied it's outright stated, ghost!John, heavily implied lams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 18:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12513328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARandomIdiot/pseuds/JustARandomIdiot
Summary: Most kids outgrow their imaginary friends. But Philip? His just suddenly abandoned him as a child. Or so he thinks. Originally published on fanfiction.net





	Out With the Old

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story published on here, just to try and test this out. I originally posted this on fanfiction.net as Randomness Girl (terrible name, I know).
> 
> There is some inspiration drawn from the movie Heart and Souls, if anyone has ever seen that.

"Imagination isn't a bad thing."

 

"But his teachers are worried for him! They say he doesn't play with any of the other kids, and some of the older students bully him for it!"

 

Alexander and Eliza Hamilton continued to argue, unaware the subject of their conversation, their son Philip, was listening at the top of the stairs. John stood behind him, eavesdropping as well. He looked towards the young boy, who was eerily still, save for a few quiet sniffles.

 

After a few more minutes of listening to the hurtful conversation, he brought himself to his feet and dragged himself to his bedroom, John following behind.

 

Climbing into the covers, the young boy turned to the man and asked, "Are you real?"

 

John tilted his head. "Of course I'm real," he replied with shock. "What makes you say that?"

 

Philip looked down, uncertainty in his eyes. John placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is it what your mother and father are talking about?"

 

Philip hesitated, tears at the corners of his eyes. "It's... more than that...

 

"I'm already nine years old, and everyone else has outgrown imaginary friends... Everyone at school calls me crazy... What if I'm going insane?"

 

"Hey, buddy, you're not insane, what makes you say that?"

 

The boy looked the man in the eye, his own filled with hurt. "Then how come I'm the only one who can see you?"

 

John opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to think of an answer. "I don't know..." he replied glumly, looking away.

 

The young boy let the tears he held fall. "Then I AM going insane!" he choked out.

 

"No you're not, you-" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. Knowing that arguing with him wouldn't do any good, he told Philip, "Just go to sleep, okay?"

 

Philip said nothing as he lay down, only sniffing every once in a while. While he fell into a dreamless sleep in a few moments, John's night was filled with thoughts that kept his mind at unrest.

 

* * *

 

John was dreading what he was going to do the next night, but he knew it had to be done.

 

Philip seemed happier this time, as if he forgot what had happened the night before. Honestly, John wasn't sure if this was going to work, but he had to do it.

 

For Philip's sake.

 

As the young Hamilton child crawled into bed, John spoke up. "Hey, uh, Philip? We... we need to talk."

 

"What is it, John?" the boy asked happily.

 

The man gulped. Looking into his large eyes, he couldn't bear to destroy his heart.

 

But he didn't want him to grow up with people believing he was losing his mind.

 

"I think... I think you should find more friends besides me."

 

The boy frowned. "What do you mean?" he questioned. "You're the only friend I need."

 

"Yeah, that's the thing... I think it's best if you... found more kids your age?"

 

Philip's eyes shined with tears. "Is this about what I said last night?" he whined, his breathing becoming quicker.

 

John couldn't look him in the eye; he was smarter than he thought. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his arm.

 

"No, John, please! I don't want anyone else! I want you!" The poor boy was almost bawling, his lips quivering.

 

Looking back up at him, John gave a small smile and told him, "Hey, take care while I'm gone."

 

He wasn't going to actually leave him; no, he couldn't bear to separate from Philip. He was still going to watch over him, but invisible. At least, that was the plan. He didn't know if it would work. He closed his eyes and focused on... well, he wasn't sure, he was just trying to disappear from his sight.

 

"John, no, please come back!" He opened his eyes, staring at Philip, who had tears streaming down his freckled cheeks.

 

"Philip?" he whispered, wondering if it worked.

 

"Come back! Please!" he continued to sob, letting the man know he couldn't see him anymore. "I'm sorry, I p-promise I won't talk like that again, just come back!"

 

Hearing how hurt he sounded made John want to cry as well. He hated seeing him like this, but this was better than locking him up for being "crazy."

 

Right?

 

"Philip? Philip, dear." Eliza opened the door to his room, rushing towards her son. She passed through John, sending chills down his spine. Holding her eldest child in her arms, she asked, "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

 

"H-h-h-he l-left m-me!" he managed to tell her as he continued to bawl. He hiccuped, before continuing. "J-John l-l-left m-me, b-b-but h-he said that h-h-he w-would never l-leave me!"

 

The man felt a lump in his throat as Philip said that. He forgot about that promise completely. He let a tear fall, feeling just as terrible as the day of his death when he left Alexander.

 

"I'm so sorry, Philip..."

 

* * *

 

Philip laughed loudly, holding another glass of Sam Adams. John sat at the table next to him, watching. The past seven years had been very lonely without anyone to talk to. During that time, Philip eventually found some new people to call his friends, one of them being Burr's daughter. The rest, John didn't really care for.

 

"Okay, Philip, your turn!" one man proclaimed. "Tell us the craziest thing you've done!"

 

"Yeah, spill!" another urged, more drunk than the rest. "You're a Hamilton boy, your father must've made you do stuff!"

 

Philip chuckled, gulping down his alcohol. John sighed, wishing he could drink again.

 

"Well," Philip began, "I'd say the craziest thing... would be my imaginary friend!"

 

John snapped his head towards him. Imaginary friend?

 

The first man booed. "Everyone had those as wee lads and lassies!" he yelled a little loudly.

 

Philip smirked. "Did your imaginary friend tell you that he fought in the Revolution?"

 

The two men seemed a bit more interested in this. John just stared, wondering where he was going with this.

 

"Yeah, did your imaginary friend claim to be the ghost of one of the soldiers?"

 

"I am," John told him, though he knew he couldn't hear.

 

"What kind of kid comes up with that?" the second man asked.

 

Philip laughed. "I know, and get this: he claimed to be my dad's ex-boyfriend!"

 

The two men howled with laughter as John stood up angrily. "I was!" he yelled, feeling himself grow red with rage.

 

"Crazy, right?"

 

"You were one insane boy!"

 

"That's priceless!"

 

John stormed in front of Philip, wanting to kill him. "Philip Hamilton," he scolded, placing his hands on his hips, "you take that back, or so help me, I will take you here to the afterlife with me!" Of course, he was ignored as Philip continued to drink and laugh.

 

"Philip!" John yelled again, waving a hand in front of his face. He closed his eyes and concentrated, then opened them, expecting to see the teen shocked at the sight of his old "imaginary friend."

 

Unfortunately, he looked through him, straight at his friends.

 

"Wait, what?" He tried again. And again. And again. He didn't know for how long he tried, but he kept at it, until Philip stood up and left the bar. "No," he whispered. He ran after him, practically screaming. "No no no no! Philip, you gotta see me!" He placed himself in front of him, only to have him pass through him, the chills going down his spine.

 

John stood there for a moment, then turned around, staring. He swallowed, feeling the tears streaming from his eyes. "No... This can't be happening..."

 

* * *

 

"I'm a Hamilton with pride. You talk about my father, I cannot let it slide!" John sped after him worriedly.

 

"Philip," he told him. "This is a bad idea..." Sure, he himself had participated in a duel, but of course, he was stupid at the time. Well, stupider. At least now he was smart enough to know this was a dumb idea.

 

As usual, Philip didn't hear him.

 

"Mr. Eacker," the nineteen-year-old greeted the older man as he arrived at the dueling spot. "How was the rest of your show?"

 

Coldly, he replied, "I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go." As his second handed him his gun, he told the young Hamilton, "Grab your pistol."

 

Philip did the same, determination written on his face as he nodded. "Confer with your men; the duel will commence AFTER we count to ten!"

 

"Philip, please, I'm begging you," John pleaded, attempting to appear. "Don't do this!"

 

"Look him in the eye, aim no higher," Philip quietly muttered to himself. "Summon all the courage you require-"

 

"Philip, stop!"

 

"-and slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky!"

 

He and Eacker turned their backs towards each other as they counted the paces.

 

**1**

 

"Philip, listen to me!"

 

**2**

 

"Goddamnit, Philip!"

 

**3**

 

John stood in front of him, waving his arms.

 

**4**

 

"Come on, come on!"

 

**5**

 

"Ugh! Why can't I make him see me anymore?"

 

**6**

 

"Philip!"

 

**7**

 

Eacker shot.

 

* * *

 

**THE END**


End file.
